


Clientela

by cognomen



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Pederasty, Underage Sex, roman concepts, roman societal norms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:19:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cognomen/pseuds/cognomen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy is soft and sweet in his lap, a gentle, innocent thing in all but his eyes. The Romans do not discriminate too harshly when they claim their levy of men from the Sarmatians, and the Equites who go to take census and write dues are perhaps often swayed by their very Roman natures to allow those who would still be in their stripes in Rome to ride back alongside.</p>
<p>The youngest are often unlucky, at least until they find an older patron, someone experienced enough to claim and hold. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>written for 'Shota or Daddy Kink' prompt. I'm not proud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clientela

The boy is soft and sweet in his lap, a gentle, innocent thing in all but his eyes. The Romans do not discriminate too harshly when they claim their levy of men from the Sarmatians, and the Equites who go to take census and write dues are perhaps often swayed by their very Roman natures to allow those who would still be in their stripes in Rome to ride back alongside.

The youngest are often unlucky, at least until they find an older patron, someone experienced enough to claim and hold. 

Galahad, Tristan thinks, must have been deeply unlucky. Though his face is still round with boyhood, his cheeks hairless, his arms and belly soft, he is growing beautiful as young men do. He will not grow large enough to defend himself for some time, cannot disguise his appeal by growing thick hair over his body.

He cannot take back what was done to the boy, cannot reclaim what was taken, but he offers his protection in what ways he can instead. 

Tristan had been lucky, though he'd come young. He had been old enough to wear the clothes of a man, had he been so civilized as to belong to Rome herself, but not old enough to serve in the Legion. At 'a wife's age', Arthur had assessed of him, barely older himself at that time. Tristan had mentioned he had none. He had been lanky and angular, with none of the traits Romans desired, and he had let his beard grow long - Tristan had never had the attention of the older men.

It is a blessing he intends to pass on, in what ways he can.

"I won't indenture you as a cliens," he had assured the boy, tipping his chin up to meet the soft, sullen gaze. "This is not a clientela." 

Galahad tossed his chin out of Tristan's grasp and shifted away, and it was only then when Tristan had a full idea of the youth of the boy - he was not just slow to mature.

It had not been a refusal, though Tristan had assumed it would amount to one.

Two days later, as he sat amongst his brothers at supper, arms sore from the massive shield and the heavy pila they had thrown all day, launching them across the field at stick and hide targets, Galahad had crawled into his lap in soft pliancy.  
"I won't take charity," he had asserted, eyes dark and fierce, mouth twisted in a man's scowl on a boys lips. "But I will take your protection."

Then he had kissed Tristan, fierce, his teeth sharp, his mouth biting. Then, as now, he had pride and spirit enough to take back what was claimed from him, to learn the lesson in lovemaking that ferocity taught. 

Then, as now, all Tristan's efforts to gentle the boy amounted to little - Galahad commanded Tristan's tent like the Legatus Legionus himself, determined to provide proof perfect that he had Tristan's protection and exactly why. 

His body is slim and naked and hairless, only beginning to develop though he hardens to Tristan's hand anyway, the whole of his developing length vanishes in the curl of Tristan's fingers, and the nails that scratch his back and neck are not spaced far apart. He feels nearly weightless in Tristan's lap, and the thrill of that is strange, unusual for Tristan - he had never found the appeal in youth before, nor beauty.

But when Galahad bites him, rocks his small hips against Tristan's own in demand, he realizes it is not the boy that so excites him but the potential, growing and transforming Galahad from within.

He pushes Galahad back, down into the furs, determined to teach him that there is more than simply taking in this, and when he gives with his mouth the boy's breath scatters hot.

"Attai," he purrs, in his strange habit, when Tristan opens his mouth and takes him that way for the first time, finding only soft, rigid skin beneath his tongue, clean and without the scent that men carried. Galahad's voice raises, breaks on his sounds of pleasure like waves on the shore, and Tristan supposes there is immense appeal in the discovery that such youth allows, the long hours of coaxing that leave them sleepless until exhaustion claims Galahad - always before release.

He is young yet, and Tristan is patient. Soon, Galahad will have grown enough to find it, and that will be a first that Tristan takes from him, in repayment for the long grooves the boy's nails scratch into his back, the sharp presses of teeth against his own lips, the aggressive way Galahad demands his protection, rather than only taking his generosity.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of roman words in this, sorry. Lots of actual genuine roman concepts instead of the odd mishmash the movie presented as well. Let me know if there's too many terms y'all can't figure out and I'll put together a glossary.


End file.
